


Chamomile

by Dawnshadow



Series: Two Scions Walk Into a Bar.... [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Again, And not actually in this fic, But it's a canon death, Discussion of a character death, Eden Spoilers, F/M, Insomnia, M/M, Requited Love, Serpent of Ronka side quest spoilers, Tea, This is really a gen fic with ships around the borders, Unrequited Love, Urianger overthinks things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnshadow/pseuds/Dawnshadow
Summary: [Post-5.3] In the wake of [the 5.3 trial boss] Urianger and Y'shtola both find themselves up far too late, thinking about past mistakes and future desires. They talk things out.
Relationships: Quinfort/Valan (Final Fantasy XIV) (Referenced), Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul & Urianger Augurelt, Y'shtola Rhul/Runar
Series: Two Scions Walk Into a Bar.... [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1442545
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	Chamomile

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I jumped ?? entries here. I had an idea for what was meant for a standalone reaction to certain 5.3 revelations and realized halfway through that it was a Two Scions fic. I'll go back and fill in the missing parts someday.
> 
> (Also spoiler alert the ship happens sometime during ShB. So much for gen.)
> 
> Apologies for not writing much, current events are eating most of my spoons.

"Urianger. Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" Y'shtola sat across the table from him and set her teacup on its surface delicately, careful to not disturb his cards and the subtle currents of aether that flowed through them and around them. The audacity of learning to read the stars on a world with no night still astounded her... but, admittedly, she'd done things far more absurd in her time.

"I could, in sooth, ask the same of thee." He drew one more card, laying it in the formation, then started to turn them over, one at a time—needing, of course, to see their faces in order to know what they concealed. "I found my soul restless, and for fear of disturbing Thancred's slumber in tossing and turning withdrew from his chambers."

She didn't need him to tell her that—his aether was roiling like the sea in a storm. "And so you came out here to seek answers. What are the cards telling you?"

The silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the soft slide of cardboard against the table's surface as he turned the cards over. She knew what each one was before he did—that was the bole, the next the balance—but lacked his study of how to interpret them. She'd honestly suspected it to be hogwash until his then-burgeoning skills had predicted the attack that had served to integrate her with the Night's Blessed. "Naught of use, sadly," he finally concluded. "Chaos on the horizon, distant yet inevitable, and it will fall to us to be the bulwark. 'Tis likely confirmation of the pandemonium in Garlemald in the wake of losing a second Emperor in a bare handful of years—as we were already aware."

"I see." Y'shtola took a deliberate sip of her tea. "So, tell me, what answers did you hope to find? What truth would soothe your troubled soul?"

Urianger once again fell silent. He gathered the cards up and shuffled them. Thoroughly. Incredibly, unnecessarily thoroughly.

" _Urianger,_ " Y'shtola prompted him. "Please. Whatever it is that burdens you, you need not bear it alone."

Urianger's hands tangled in his robes, for the moment absent of their chains. "When thy gaze falleth upon the aether of my soul," he said, hesitantly, "is there any aspect of it—however subtle, however slight—that doth strike thee as unusual or irregular?"

She hadn't noticed anything out of sorts. But, obligingly, Y'shtola looked it over more closely. "It seems utterly unchanged to me—and notably undamaged by the journey back across the Rift."

He shook his head. "I fear that this would be no recent alteration." His voice was quavering, heavy with regret and trepidation. "Like as not predating our reunion following thy first desperate use of the Flow."

"What do you mean by that, Urianger?" She did, however, look more closely at the aether as she waited for him to gather the fortitude to respond.

"Recallest thou when we did face the Warring Triad? How we could not approach closely, for fear that mere exposure to a primal of such tremendous power could enslave one's very soul—as did happen to no few of the Garleans who approached unknowing what risk they undertook?"

"Of course." She frowned, tracing his logic—a concerning thought, indeed. "I didn't notice any change in your personality or aether after that. But it's not the Triad you're concerned about, is it?"

"It is not, my lady," he confessed.

"I suspect I know what supposition concerns you, but I would like to hear it from your lips, regardless." She scrutinized his aether as she spoke. Urianger sat tense, eyes fixed on the table.

"Prior to, and during those events, I spent no small amount of time in the presence of one who was of late revealed to be a primal of unimaginable power— if only a fragment of such." It was as she'd expected, then. "That I did not so much as suspect the truth after my expansive studies on the matter of primals is quite the ironic oversight."

"That's scarcely your fault." Y'shtola kept watching him, concerned. "I have no doubt that you would have reached the same conclusion if you'd been the one to stay behind and study the records." Fortunately so—she was nothing but grateful that Urianger _hadn't_ fallen into Elidibus' talons again, even at her own expense. "You were busy finishing the Eden project. I could intuit the Emissary's true nature using the data from the archives, but I never studied arcanima. I doubt I could have directed our friend's summoning efforts without a great deal more trial and error."

"It may be so, but it doth not change the fact that I—in my foolish bid for knowledge—did unknowingly place myself in a situation most precarious." He was still sitting stiffly, his aether churning anxiously. "While I believe that Elidibus at no point moved to deliberately bind me to his will in such a way—for even had he done so in a subtle manner, and thus escaped my conscious notice, he would doubtlessly have availed himself of such leverage when the opportunity presented itself—there is yet a risk that spending so much time in immediate proximity was enough to invoke some degree of influence, however indirect."

"I don't see any signs that your aether has been tampered with." The aether was free of any unusual influence from darkness or light—she honestly wasn't certain which of the two powers she would have found if should his concerns had proven immediately evident. "And, for that matter, I've never heard of anyone who was both tempered and _concerned_ about it—typically they're quite content in their new state." She took another drink of her tea, noting that—unfortunately—the cup was nearly empty. "Is there anything in particular that leads you to worry about this, the history of physical proximity aside? Disquieting impulses or intrusive thoughts?"

Urianger considered the question. "Primals are created with a purpose, an intent, and this one was broad: salvation. Long have I been driven to pursue such, and mine efforts to see both this star and the First saved have been ceaseless since my encounters with him."

"Your efforts to preserve this Star were no less ceaseless _before_ your encounters with him, to be fair," Y'shtola pointed out. "If it wasn't so, you would still be cooped up in some Sharlanian library, dissecting your prophecies instead of acting on them. Never mind that Emet-Selch would have likely mentioned it. With his ability to sense souls so vividly he would have seen the marks of being tempered by someone whose aether was doubtlessly intimately familiar, and I doubt he could have resisted teasing you."

"His continued ignorance in regards to my poor judgment was exactly what I intended from the situation... as were my attempts to refrain from close contact with him, should either his Gift or some careless comment betray what I chose to conceal." Urianger sighed, folding his cards back into a neat stack. "I concede, however, that thy logic is sound. It is baseless paranoia which grips me."

"It's no hollow concern," Y'shtola pointed out, bluntly. If they had known.... "And honestly, I suspect that your existing devotion to the _ideal_ of salvation—even at great personal cost— was why he approached you; your pious nature doubtlessly rendered you a potent source of raw energy. Your potential as a pawn only sweetened the plot."

Urianger sighed, rubbing his temples. "Though at the time I presumed his efforts to focus mine own attentions on the salvation of stars to be in good faith—and mayhaps to some extent they were, given that the loss of the Source or the First would mean their sacrifices were, in the end, for naught— it was certainly not the Twelve who heard my prayers. "

"So long as you learned." Y'shtola sat back. "Now. I find myself out of tea. Would you be so kind as to go brew another pot? Something herbal, this time of night, and bring a cup for yourself." She suspected that getting his mind off his fears—even by so simple a distraction as the process of making tea—would serve to soothe him.

Urianger nodded and got up, leaving his cards behind—heading for the kitchen. Y'shtola turned her face to the heavens, imagining the stars that watched from above. Under the night sky the truth was safe to share, she'd once learned and taught. She scoffed. Scarcely settled back into her own flesh, and already she longed to go back. Little she would have expected to feel _wistful_ about anyone or anything before now.

Well, it scarcely mattered. She'd made her promise. She would find a way to travel freely between the shards, in time. And really, there were worse things to be than wistful. Her ears flicked as she heard Urianger once more ascending the stairs, the soles of his shoes clicking softly on the stone.

"Chamomile with honey seemed most appropriate, at this juncture." He sat down and slid Y'shtola's cup across the table.

She took the cup and sipped the tea appreciatively. Floral, not quite as sweet as she'd have personally preferred, but if she'd wanted it to her own exact taste she would have made the tea herself. "Thank you. It's quite good."

Urianger ducked his head in gratitude. "I am grateful that it is acceptable for thee. Although a question did come to mind, nonetheless: the truth of my sleeplessness now lieth revealed, but thou, as well, art out of thy bed at this hour."

"I wanted to stargaze," Y'shtola responded. It wasn't a lie, exactly.

Urianger tilted his head. "I did not think thee capable of sensing their aether, for all thy short-range sensitivity." And he wasn't wrong—she suspected that using aether-sense as a substitute for sight drowned out any potential she might have when it came to sensing the faint and distant aether of stars, much as standing before a band marching in a parade might drown out the song of birds in a nearby copse. However, she wasn't about to go stand in a field somewhere and functionally blind herself as an experiment in astrology to test her theory.

"I meant metaphorically, Urianger—even if I can't see them, I know they're up there." She smiled softly, remembering when he'd used the same logic to defend his study of the stars on the First. "Beyond that, I'm still adjusting to being awake during the day again after so many years of a functionally nocturnal schedule. Sleeping at night has proven a greater challenge than I'd ever expected, and I've found it more productive to leave my bed when such bouts strike than to lie awake willing sleep to come."

"Hast thou received any news from the First?" He smiled gently. "Ryne sent coffee biscuits back when last our friend visited—it seems that she and her newfound companion are quite happy. I plan to send back some small trinket in exchange. Mayhaps thou couldst do the same for Runar, should aught appropriate catch thine eye. A reminder that he doth ever linger in thy memory and thoughts, as thou doubtlessly doth linger in his own."

He wasn't wrong, and she hated it. "I've sent letters, and received them," she answered. "The Blessed seem to be getting along well enough without me, although they don't hesitate to emphasize how they look forward to my eventual return, regardless. It seems as if Quinfort and Valan are to be wed. This, of course, surprises absolutely no one—but it would behoove me to send a gift, regardless."

"The Serpent in effigy, mayhaps?" Urianger suggested, grinning.

Y'shtola considered the suggestion. "It would certainly be appropriate," she mused. "Some sort of jewelry in its _unquestionably divine_ colors?"

"Such could be easily commissioned." He smiled. "And, of course, for Runar—a sigil of the night sky wrought in silver? Adorned, mayhaps, with the same sort of stone thou didst choose for thine own representation."

"I—that would be—he _would_ treasure it, wouldn't he?" She frowned. "But, for all my resolve, there's no guarantee that we'll be able to go back."

"'Tis all the more important, then, that he is made aware. Even should we discover the key, there is no promise that another century shall not pass there in our absence—while the flow of time is nearly synchronized at this time between the Source and its reflection, naught binds it but fortune." Urianger fixed her with an unusually direct stare, paired with a likewise unusually direct statement. "Prithee. Tell him what truth lieth in thy heart, so that he doth not find himself with naught but regret should the worst come to pass. So that... thou dost not find _thyself_ bearing such regret."

Urianger would know, wouldn't he. "...I'll certainly do so, alongside said charm." She knew well enough Runar's feelings toward her. She'd presumed he would know hers as well. "I—thank you, for the hard-won advice, I suppose."

"Of course." He bowed his head. "If it doth please thee, I could suggest the selfsame crystalsmith who I once commissioned for Alisaie's blade. 'Twould be quite the journey to Ul'dah, of course, but the result may be well worth it."

"Doubtlessly worth it. And didn't you mention that you'd left some books at the Waking Sands? I could get them for you while I'm there." She smiled at him. "You spent enough years riding back and forth every time we needed you here— when you weren't exhausting yourself teleporting—and I don't doubt that Thancred would miss having you in his bed."

Urianger stared at her wide-eyed, his cheeks going more than a little pink. "My lady—I—"

"The observant among us are aware that you're not just sleeping on that cot in his chambers until you get your own quarters—that's why Tataru's been working on a larger suite for the both of you once the secret's out. I know you're both trying to be discreet, and I don't plan to tell anyone who's not already aware until you're both ready, but aside from a few _fair maidens_ who might be heartbroken to find their favorite 'bard's' flirtations have met their end, I can't think of a single soul who would be anything less than thrilled by the news."

Urianger seemed speechless. Good. Keep his thoughts focused on _that_ until he got to sleep, and not his other regrets. Y'shtola finished her tea and stood up. "And... as I seem to have a trip ahead of me, I think I ought to attempt sleep again. Tell Thancred I said good night?"  
  
Urianger nodded. "A-aye. And thee, as well—good night."

\---

Thancred half-roused as Urianger crawled back into bed. He reached out to pull the elezen close. "Better?" he asked. He'd been awakened earlier by Urianger's restlessness, and had felt him leave the bed. It wasn't unusual for him—sometimes he just got up to watch the stars, and sometimes... well, they both had times when they needed space.  
  
"Aye." Urianger offered a kiss—Thancred marveled once more at the feel of his lips against his own, how soft they were—and then settled in, low enough in the bed that his head could rest against Thancred's bare chest despite his height. "I spoke with Y'shtola and had some tea. All is well—a passing nightmare, chased away by the light of reason."  
  
Good. Thancred closed his eyes again. "Talk about it in the morning?"  
  
"...if 'tis thy desire." And Thancred felt Urianger relax— safe in his arms— as they both went back to sleep.


End file.
